


for you have been redeemed (at infinite cost)

by deerRuhan



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 2x12, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and deserves better, can you believe i googled bible verses for this title?, it's from my fav version of the verse they took "you are not your own" from, magnus is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 15:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerRuhan/pseuds/deerRuhan
Summary: A soft and Magnus-centric follow up to "You Are Not Your Own" (2x12)





	for you have been redeemed (at infinite cost)

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote fic oh my god but the episode tonight left me so ???? and I had to write something to get the blahh Malec ending scene out of my system. Please enjoy!

“Just tell me what to do, please,” Alec pleaded.

Magnus heard his voice as if it was echoing through a tunnel; the events of the day were catching up to him, and though he had not been restrained in his own body he thought he felt phantom pain along his wrists and mouth where he had fought against his restraints. Alec looked as though he wanted to touch, Magnus realized. And he, too, wanted to reach out and seek some physical comfort, some warmth. But he felt too raw; it was as if the Agony rune had scraped open his skin, every single nerve exposed and vulnerability brought to the surface.

The last time Alec touched him, he had been wrestling him into a cold metal chair for execution. No matter that it hadn’t been his body, his skin. To be visited by violence at the hands of someone he trusted and loved was too much to bear, and he didn’t feel ready to revisit that touch just yet, however gentled.

“Magnus,” Alec said again, and his voice broke on the second syllable.

“It’s alright, Alexander,” Magnus sighed. “I would just like to get some rest.”

 _Alone_ , he felt tempted to add, but stopped himself at the last second. He didn’t know if he wanted to be left alone with his thoughts just yet. But Alec seemed to have heard his unspoken word. Magnus felt him shift hesitantly beside him on the couch, then sigh and get up.

“I’ll finish cleaning all this up,” Alec said, an aborted sweep of his hands indicating the mess the fight had made of his living room. “Go get ready for bed, and if-“ he swallowed, “-if you want to be alone after that, then I’ll leave.”

Magnus wanted to point out that he could easily fix everything with a twitch of his fingers, but when he tried to draw his magic up, it felt like he was pulling through molasses. Instead, he nodded and made his way to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror was like a punch to the gut. He lifted a hand to place on the cool surface, and noted absently that it was shaking. He clenched his fist to make it stop, pressed his knuckles against his pale reflection until fresh pain burst to the surface. It cleared his head, a little.

He was able to start a shower with a small flick of his index finger, and it made him feel a little better even before he stepped under the spray of water. He stood under the water for a long time, until it began to run cold without the added help of his magic to boost the temperature. He stepped out into his bedroom to find Alec standing awkwardly next to his bed, still dressed in full combat gear. Alec looked up at his approach, and something tightened imperceptibly in his expression.

“You, um, forgot to remove your makeup,” Alec pointed out gently.

Magnus reflexively rubbed a finger against his eyelid, and saw it come away smudged with the remnants of his eyeliner. After everything, simply going back to the bathroom to retrieve his makeup remover to remove all of his makeup felt overwhelming.

“I’ll remove it in the morning,” Magnus said. His bed had never looked so tempting before. “I’m going to go to sleep.”

At this pronouncement, Alec somehow looked even more awkward. He shifted, as if trapped between making his way to the door and making his way to the dresser, where by now he had a full set of clothing and pajamas he could change into.

“Stay, if you like, or leave,” Magnus informed him as he half-fell into his bed, dazedly getting under the covers. His body felt numb, leaden, and Alexander was _still standing there awkwardly._

They needed to talk more about everything that had happened, Magnus recognized distantly, and right now he didn’t even know if he could handle Alexander slipping into bed with him, but he wasn’t going to be conscious in another five minutes either way so it didn’t really matter. By the time Alec strode across the room to dim the lights, Magnus was already half-way to sleep. On the edge of unconsciousness, he wondered if he had said his last thoughts aloud.

* * *

 

Consciousness tugged at him inch by inch until he warily blinked awake, a faint memory of the harsh white light of the Institute’s cage fading away behind his eyelids as he recognized the warm lighting of his own bedroom, his curtains keeping the noon light at bay. With a faint pang, he noted the absence of Alexander; the other side of the bed (and how strange it was to him, even now, that after all those decades of being alone he had once again gotten into the habit of sleeping in one designated side of the bed) had not been slept in.

The loft was quiet, absent of the soft clanging of pots and pans that he sometimes woke up to, the sounds of Alexander fixing a quick breakfast or lunch for them before he headed back to the Institute. But then, he hadn’t even been sure last night if he’d wanted Alexander to stay, Magnus remembered; he had probably picked up on his hesitancy and chosen to give him space. It wasn’t fair to feel a pang of loss at something he hadn’t even been sure he wanted, he reminded himself ferociously. Besides, even if he had stuck around, Magnus had slept in later than usual and after everything Alexander had probably been called back to the Institute early anyways.

The night of sleep had done Magnus good, and he was able to make his way back into the bathroom with the vague remembrance of going to sleep with his makeup still on. But when he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he saw with faint shock that all traces of smudged eyeliner and mascara had been wiped away. Turning his head, he saw that a faint shadow of bronzer still lingered around his jawline, and some of the eyeliner on his waterline was still stubbornly clinging on, but it was nothing like the smudged mess he had been expecting. Blinking in confusion, he looked at his packet of makeup wipes which had been moved slightly from their original spot at the top of the counter, then saw in the trash a discarded wipe with what looked like the remnants of last night’s makeup on it.

With a faint smile and a touch to his face, he realized that Alexander had probably removed his makeup after he’d passed out. A relic from growing up around Isabelle Lightwood? Or learned from Magnus himself? Fuzzy memories of Alexander gazing at him as he removed his makeup before bed on many nights rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind. When prodded about the habit, Alexander had flushed and said nothing more than “I like watching you.”

He would call Alexander a little later, Magnus resolved, as he took another makeup wipe to remove the last bits of bronzer and eyeliner Alexander had missed. There was no need to let everything fester; he was still hurt, still smarting a little underneath the skin. Old trauma was bubbling up to the surface (the flare of pain at the flash of his mother’s face had been unexpected, like an old scar long healed over had suddenly burst open with fresh blood). But Valentine wasn’t going to ruin the most precious relationship he’d built in centuries. They would make it past this, Magnus was sure. It would just take a little more time, that was all.


End file.
